er in his giant arms; he could crush him in a mighty hug,
the hug of a grizzly, crush him like an egg-shell. But, quick as the
snap of a trap, the Jam-wagon had pinioned his arms at the elbow, so
that he was helpless. For a moment he held him, then, suddenly releasing
his arms, he caught him round the body, shook him with a mighty
side-heave, gave him the cross-buttock, and, before he could strike a
single blow, threw him in the air and dashed him to the ground.

"Time!" called the umpire. It was all done so quickly it was hard for
the eye to follow, but a mighty cheer went up from the house. "Two to
one on the little fellow," called the banjo-voice. Suddenly Locasto rose
to his feet. He was shamed, angered beyond all expression. Heaving and
panting, he lurched to his corner, and in his eyes there was a look that
boded ill for his adversary.

Time again. With the lightness of a panther the Jam-wagon sprang into
the centre of the ring. More than halfway he met Locasto, and now his
intention seemed to be to draw his man on rather than to avoid him. I
watched his every movement with a sense of thrilling fascination. He had
resumed his serpentine movements, advancing and retreating with
shadow-like quickness, feinting, side-stepping, pawing the air till he
had his man baffled and bewildered. Yet he never struck a blow.

All this seemed to be getting on Locasto's nerves. He was going steadily
enough, trying by every means in his power to get the other man to "mix
it up." He shouted the foulest abuse at him. "Stand up like a man, you
son of a dog, and fight." The smile left the Jam-wagon's lips, and he
settled down to business.

I saw him edging up to Locasto. He feinted wildly, then, stepping in
closely, he swung a right and left to Black Jack's face. A moment later
he was six feet away, with a bitter smile on his lips.

With a fierce bellow of rage Locasto, forgetting all his caution,
charged him. He smashed his heavy right with all its might for the
other's face, but, quick as the quiver of a bow-string, the Jam-wagon
side-stepped and the blow missed. Then the Jam-wagon shifted and brought
his left, full-weight, crash on Locasto's mouth.

At that fierce triumphant blow there was the first dazzling blood-gleam,
and the crowd screeched with excitement. In a wild whirlwind of fury
Locasto hurled himself on the Jam-wagon, his arms going like windmills.
Any one of these blows, delivered in a vital spot, would have meant
d